


Mark Upon the Map

by romanticalgirl



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance, The Academy Is...
Genre: Knifeplay, M/M, Scarification
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-20
Updated: 2011-06-20
Packaged: 2017-10-23 10:38:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/249376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mikey always knows where he comes back to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mark Upon the Map

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](http://inlovewithnight.livejournal.com/profile)[**inlovewithnight**](http://inlovewithnight.livejournal.com/) for the beta. Written for the [kink_bingo](http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/) square "scarification".

  
They’re playing two nights in Chicago, which means they’ve got a hotel room and nowhere to be after the first show. He goes out and signs autographs for a while with Frank, smiling and making jokes and relaxing as much as he can, doing his best not to look past the small crowd to the other side of the street. It’s dark, the streetlamp blown out, but Mikey doesn’t need to _see_ to know. The hot pulse just to the left of his cock tells him exactly who it is. Exactly what it means.

Security walks them back to the buses and there’s a van waiting to take them to the hotel. Mikey grabs his bag from the back and waves to the rest of the guys, sliding between them as the climb in and heading across the street. There’s a car idling, some ridiculous thing that would look more at home in a seventies Blaxploitation flick.

“I took you for a Prius kind of guy.”

William tilts his head to cut Mikey a slow smile. That sends another pulse, this one directly to his cock. “I’ve had this car since I was sixteen.”

“It’s hideous.”

The van pulls out of the lot and heads to the left, and William smiles and shifts out of park, going the opposite direction. “I know.”

Mikey recognizes the hotel as they pull up, something just the right side of sleazy. It’s the kind of hotel that they’d stay at on a good night in the van days, the kind that occasionally had clean towels and the ice machine worked almost half the time. It’s the first hotel they ever went to together, one night when Pete had kicked them both out, too agitated for company. They’d driven around, stopped at a bar, gotten wasted and stumbled across the street to here, this hotel, this room.

William unlocks the door and pushes the door open wide. Mikey walks in, flipping on the light. One of the bedside lamps comes on after flickering a few times, and the other remains dark. It’s enough to see that the room hasn’t changed. He knows it’s all in his head, that he’s not feeling what he thinks he feels, but he presses his hand to the flat plane of skin between his cock and his hip, rubbing through the denim.

The door doesn’t close until William puts effort into it, shoving it into the swollen jamb, but the lock clicks solidly. Mikey takes off his shirt as William slips the chain on as well. They don’t talk – not the first time, not any time, not now – they just move through the motions. Mikey removes the rest of his clothes and strips the bed down to the sheet, lying naked on his back. William undresses to his shorts then reaches into the pocket of his jacket and pulls out a pair of latex gloves.

Mikey doesn’t make a sound, even though one claws at his throat. He just watches William look at him, trying to hold in the desire to beg him to move closer, to touch him. Begging makes William take longer, and Mikey doesn’t want to wait. He reaches down to the scar on his skin, tracing the four lines cut into his flesh. William’s eyes follow his hand, watching Mikey’s fingers move over the raised lines, their color just slightly off from the rest of his skin.

“Been too long.”

Mikey wants to agree, but he’s not sure if doing so will bring William closer or make him prolong the wait, so he rubs harder, pressing against the lines. William smiles and grabs the case from the inside pocket of his jacket, holding it as he crawls up to straddle Mikey’s knees. He places it on the bed beside him, the muted pewter dark against the off-white sheets. Mikey bought him the case a year ago at an art store, measuring X-acto knives against it to make sure it would fit William’s scalpel, opening and closing it, the solid metal click making his cock hard just imagining what it would mean.

The clasp unhooks with the familiar click and his cock jerks in response, bringing his gaze back to William. He’s rewarded with a slow, promising smile from William. Mikey has to bite back a groan, but some of the sound escapes.

“You want it,” William says, his voice knowing.

“Please.” He doesn’t mean to say it, just to nod, but it slips out, beyond his control.

The shitty yellow light from the lamp glints on the steel as William slips the scalpel from the case. Mikey knows it by heart, from the sleek shaft and the raised edge near the slot for the blade. Every blade is different, but the way the shaft fits in William’s hand is familiar, perfect. Mikey always forgets how much he needs this until he has it again, until the sharp sting of alcohol hits his nose.

He thinks it must be the way junkies feel when they tourniquet their arm and light the bowl of the spoon. The rip of the packet, the swipe of one pad on the blade and another on his skin just spikes his anticipation higher, jacks up his need until all he wants is the knife buried deep.

“Fuck,” he moans softly, hips rising off the bed as William cleans his skin. “Please.”

The first touch of the blade is heat, red and pulsing as it melts through scar tissue. Mikey’s head falls back, his mouth opening as it slides deeper, colder. He sees blues and purples and shivers hard as steel meets blood and muscle. It’s like getting fucked, the way the bare sharp tip of the blade grazes just deep enough, his body’s reflexes torn between pleasure and pain.

“God. God. God.”

He can feel the blood on his skin, can feel William’s gloved fingers as they smear it over Mikey’s abdomen, slicking the dark hairs that lead down to Mikey’s cock with red. “More?”

Mikey opens his eyes and meets William’s gaze. There’s always this moment, where William looks and sounds different, and Mikey has to be sure. He has to see William’s eyes, watch them instead of the knife. “Yes.”

The second cut is different, done by touch. The first time they’d ever used a blade, there had been hours between each press of the knife, but now that he has a raised pattern to follow, William makes the cuts in a row, barely pausing. Mikey’s cock is aching, the tip slick with pre-come. He does his best to keep his hips still as the second, shorter line comes to an end. The colors are still there, swimming at the edge of his vision, blue and red and purple, pulsing and flaring to orange and yellow, tinged with black.

“Look at you.” William slides a finger along the second cut, tracing past the upper layer to the bleeding flesh beneath. “So gorgeous.”

“Please. P-ple…” He has to pause to lick his lips, swallow to wet his throat. William’s finger presses harder and Mikey arches off the bed, gasping roughly. His vision goes white, pinpricks of red like blood piercing through. He makes a noise, unable to stop himself, his hands fisting in the sheet beneath him.

William stops, just watching him. Mikey can feel the sweat standing out on his skin as the air conditioning causes bumps to rise. “Breathe.”

He gives William a jerky nod, not sure he can manage more. He wills his lungs to work, concentrating on the inhale and exhale. The corner of William’s mouth quirks up slightly, and Mikey feels the knife move, the sharp edge hooking to his left and starting the slow line downward. The fresh blood is hot, sliding into the slivered crevices of the previous cuts. He takes a rough breath, drawing it in and holding it. He knows William’s almost to the end, and Mikey has to force himself not to think about anything beyond the tip of the blade. William’s wrist moves, a faint twitch, and Mikey cries out as the knife slides deeper. His cock feels like it’s on fire, directly connected to the knife.

“F-five.” He hates asking for the time, especially so soon after William’s pause, but all he can see is the purple-black of sensation, of pain. He feels more than sees William’s nod, and the press of the blade disappears. He pants roughly and turns his head to the side, counting the clicks of the air conditioner. William doesn’t move, doesn’t even seem to breathe, but Mikey can feel his eyes like a weight, knows William is pulling him apart as easily without the knife as he does with it.

He loses count at some point, loses everything until a shiver runs through him and he looks at William again. He hasn’t moved at all and Mikey’s not sure how much time has passed. Heat flickers in his blood and everything he sees seems flared in red. William smiles and Mikey feels the touch of the blade. “Again?”

He nods and closes his eyes, surrendering to the bite of it, the pressure that becomes nothing and everything as it pierces through the skin, sinking down into the softness beneath. William’s movements are precise and Mikey feels like a rubber band pulled too tight, ready to snap. Blood smears down his hip and he gasps, the attendant jerk of his body sending a rivulet of pre-come across the head of his cock. “F-fu-fuck.”

The last cut ends with a twist of William’s wrist, a flourish that didn’t start until the fourth time they did this, so that scar is lighter, not as thick on Mikey’s skin when he rubs at the scars.

Mikey’s breath shakes his entire body as William frees the blade and cleans it slowly, letting Mikey watch the light flicker off the steel as he wipes it free of blood. Mikey bites his lower lip, watching, waiting until the blade is safely put away and William’s attention is focused solely on him.

Mikey releases the sheet and grabs the base of the headboard, better than a nod to let William know he’s ready. There’s a flask on the nightstand and William presses the open mouth of it to a washcloth, spilling warm water to wipe away the worst of the blood. Mikey closes his eyes, gritting his teeth as he waits. William’s touch moves away and every second slows down to forever until suddenly there’s a hot flash of every color behind his eyes as hydrogen peroxide hits the cuts. His hips jerk up and he comes, splattering messily all over his stomach.

The gauze and bandage go on without Mikey’s actual mental awareness. He just knows when he shakes off the haze of his orgasm, William’s fingers will be smoothing the tape on Mikey’s skin before he traces the marks the bandage hides.

“Fuck. I’ve missed you.”

William sits back on Mikey’s thighs and laughs, his hands skating down to hold Mikey’s hips. “Bet you say that to all the boys.”

“Only the ones with carving skills.” He touches the bandage and smiles up at William. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He moves his hand up again and traces the cuts through the bandage. Four lines – two long, two short. A W for Way if anyone asks, a W for William in Mikey’s head. “You ready to go to a real hotel?”

“Do I get to shower this one off me?”

“Not really.” William traces the cut again, pressing just hard enough that Mikey can feel it all through him. “This one’s carved in your skin.”  



End file.
